Working with the Enemy
by bump-in-the-night1990
Summary: Hermione is the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. When her vice president is injured, she's forced to hire a man she hasn't talked to for ten years: Draco Malfoy.  romance w/ plot & maybe m-rated later
1. The Applicant

**A/N ****– This takes place after the books, ignoring the epilogue. **

Hermione's heels click against the marble floor as she speeds down the halls of the Ministry of Magic. She's late. _Really _late. As the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, it's up to her to interview new employees for the department. Recently the vice president, Crowell Bane, had a little run in with some tribal wizards in the North Tanzania mountains, and he's expected to be in St. Mungo's hospital for at least two months - that's how long Healer Bonham told her it would take to remove the thirteen extra legs growing out of his midsection.

Hermione has to hire a new vice president to take over Crowell's work during his hospital stay. Last week, she had to sort through over a hundred anonymous applications before finally settling down to three possible candidates. Unfortunately, the first two candidates were, in Hermione's opinion, completely incompetent. Angelina Wellsworth was fresh out of Hogwarts; the only work experience she had was a few summers working at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She was a nice girl, but definitely unprepared to handle international wizarding crises. Tom Belbo, the next applicant, was incompetent, but in an entirely different manner. He had twenty years experience under his belt, working in and out of the ministry, but throughout his entire interview, he kept taking long sips of fire whisky out of a tin flagon.

Hopefully today's applicant will have something to offer; otherwise, she'll have to start the entire search process over again. Hermione finally reaches her office, and she can see the outline of a man through the bubbled glass window. She straightens her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, before opening the door and striding into the office. The man has his back to her- he seems to be staring at her wall of photographs. Unlike most wizards, Hermione prefers still pictures, unmoving shots of her friends and family. Despite living almost twenty years in the wizarding world, moving photos still give Hermione the creeps. She doesn't want Harry smirking down on her or Neville waving to her as she hunches over stacks of paperwork every day.

The applicant looks slightly taller than her, and he has thick, blonde hair. His hands are clasped behind his back, and Hermione notices a silver and emerald ring on one of his long fingers. There's a tiny snake carved into the silver. Hermione's stomach tightens in anticipation as she suddenly realizes who's standing in her office, not five feet away from her. "Malfoy," she says, her voice soft, yet firm.

He slowly turns around, cold gray eyes meeting Hermione's. He takes a step forward but stops advancing when he notices that Hermione is backing away. His pale lips curve into a bitter smile. "I'm not going to bite you, Hermione."

Hearing her first name fall from Draco's lips catches Hermione by surprise. In the past, he always addressed her as mudblood or Granger. She hasn't talked to Draco for almost ten years, not since that horrifying day where Hogwarts was run to ruin and Harry finally defeated Voldermort. The wizarding world is a small place, so she's seen glimpses of him, popping into Gringotts or grabbing a bite to eat at the Leaky Cauldron. But they haven't stood face to face for almost a decade. The feeling is completely unsettling, and Hermione backs up further so that she's standing behind her desk. "You just surprised me. That's all," Hermione says.

Draco looks at her with his familiar, calculated gaze. He seems to have barely changed in these past ten years. His body is a little more filled out, broad shoulders beneath his robes, and there's a faint outline of facial hair brushing across his jaw. But the eyes are the same, those cold, vicious eyes. "What are you doing here?" She asks.

Draco raises one, arched eyebrow. "I'm here for my interview."

"Oh. Right. Of course." The tightening in Hermione's chest relaxes slightly. Her instant reaction upon seeing Draco was fear and distaste. But if he wanted to harm her, why would he do it in the Ministry of Magic? Next to Hogwarts, it's the most well protected place in all of Europe. It never occurred to her that Draco was here to apply for the job.

She takes a calming breath before motioning to one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Please. Sit down," she says.

In her head, she's already running through the stacks of applications. There's absolutely no way she'll hire Draco Malfoy, but for the sake of procedure, she'll have to interview him anyways. "Thanks."

Hermione starts rustling through the parchments on her desk, trying to find Draco's application. She can feel his eyes on her the entire time, flushing her tense face. He must have known she would be interviewing him. Her name was on the bloody application: Hermione Granger, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Why would Draco ever want to work beneath _her? _Why would he ever stoop so low as to submit himself to a _filthy mudblood. _Even after all this time, the remainders of his cruelty are still buried deep into her skin.

"So," she says, finally finding his application. "You want to work for the ministry?"

"Well, actually, I've been working for the ministry for almost six years. I was on the Magical Games and Sports department, so initially, I did a lot of travelling for our international events." How did Hermione have no idea that Draco was working at the ministry? She can't believe they would hire the son of a deatheater, no, a deatheater himself. He was never punished for his involvement with Voldermort; his trial was publicized, and they judged him not-guilty, considering he was only a young, impressionable boy, forced to participate in the dark arts by his family. But still. He shouldn't be working for the very government his family tried to destroy.

"Really?" Hermione says. "I had no idea."

"Yes, well, as I said, I was travelling a lot in the beginning. I barely spent any time in the actual ministry. But recently, they've started putting me in an office, shoving paperwork down my throat, cooping me up all day." Draco grimaces. "I can't handle it. I need to be out of this building, accomplishing something besides tax reports. So, when I hard about Crowell's accident, I thought I might get a transfer to the International department. I know you all travel a lot for work, and for me, that's a lot more appealing than sitting in an office every day."

Hermione bites the edge of her quill as she quickly scans over Draco's application. He _is _qualified. A lot more qualified than everyone else she's looked at so far. And it's usually a golden rule to hire from within. Transfers are quite common in the ministry. But, no. She cannot hire _Draco Malfoy. _The idea of working with him, travelling with him makes her sick to her stomach. He's being perfectly cordial right now, but who's to say he's actually reformed? He's probably the same little blonde shit that roamed the halls of Hogwarts. "Well, you do have experience with the ministry," she says. "But I just don't think you're cut out for the job. I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy."

Draco lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Mr. Malfoy? Not cut out for the job?" He's shaking his head, staring Hermione down with sharp eyes. "Look _Miss Granger_, you haven't spoken a word to me for ten years. You have no idea the kind of man I am now, and yet, you're ignoring the fact that I'm overqualified for this position, and refusing to hire me on the basis that I was mean to you when we were children."

"Mean to me?" Hermione responds. She tries to keep her voice level, but she can feel hysteria rising beneath her cool surface. "Mean to me? You tortured me Malfoy. You made my life a living hell. Your family," she shakes her head, trying to hold back tears, "your family abused me." She walks around the desk so that she's towering above Malfoy, and she shoves up the sleeve of her robes, revealing scarred skin that reads _Mudblood_. "Your aunt did _this _to me. I could have had it removed, but I decided to keep it, as a reminder of everything that happened. Years from now, Voldermort and deatheaters will just be a chapter in _The History of Magic_. Children will skim over it and roll their eyes, but _I _will always remember the atrocities, the horror. I will never forget."

Hermione is breathing heavily, and her face is flushed. Usually, she's a very calm person, yet Draco seems to bring out the fury in her. She remembers her third year of Hogwarts when she was so fed up that she actually dropped her wand and punched him in the face.

Draco is staring at her, cold eyes shining with anger, his mouth set in a straight line. He stands up so they're standing less than an inch apart, and this time, Hermione doesn't back away. She's not scared. Draco is nothing. He can't hurt her. He opens his mouth, pale lips parting back into a snarl, and with deep, cold words says, "I see you've changed just as much as I. The old Hermione wouldn't let aged prejudice influence her decisions. The old Hermione would give anyone, and I mean anyone, a fighting chance for redemption." He looks her over slowly, shaking his head with distaste. "I came here hoping that we could put the past behind us. I came here knowing I would be successful at this job and hoping that you had the courage to let me try. But I guess I was wrong."

Draco picks up his black portfolio and heads for the office door. Before leaving, he turns once more, disgust in his gray eyes, and says, "You've turned into a bloody coward, Granger."

**A/N ****– What do you think so far? Worth continuing? **


	2. Bugger

The hospital halls are silent and empty. Standard visiting hours ended hours ago, but as a high-ranking member of the ministry, Hermione is allowed to come and go as she pleases. A healer looks up from her desk as Hermione walks by, and she smiles softly. "Here to visit old Crowell again?" she asks.

Hermione nods in response. "I've got to see when he'll be back on his feet...well, back on two feet." She corrects herself, thinking of the many legs sprouting out of Cromwell's stomach.

"It's nice of you to keep coming. He doesn't get many visitors."

"He would do the same for me," Hermione says before turning around and continuing down the hallway. Crowell is old, even by wizarding standards. He used to run the International department, but on his one hundred and fiftieth birthday, he handed the reigns over to Hermione, claiming the older a man gets, the less responsibility he wants. Most of his friends and relatives passed away decades ago, and in the back of her mind, Hermione wonders what type of magic Crowell uses to maintain the body of a man half his age. And a deeper part of her wonders what the point of living so long is if the people you care about have long since passed.

Crowell sits up with a grunt, smiling, as she enters the room. "Hermione!" he says cheerfully, though his face looks pale and gaunt. A sheet covers his many twitching legs. "How are you dear?"

"Fine. Thank you." She pulls up a chair to the side of his bed and looks down on his weathered, wrinkled face. "How are _you_?"

"Oh, same old, same old. They're going to try and remove Barnabus and Shamus tomorrow."

"Excuse me?"

Crowell lifts up the edge of the sheet and points to two particularly grotesque legs. "These two, right here."

"You've named your extra legs?"

Crowell's eyes twinkle. "I've had a lot of time on my hands." He sets back down the sheet. "So dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nothing, really. I just felt like saying hello. Everyone at the office sends their best wishes."

"I wish they'd sod off and forget about me. I'm going to get fat if I keep lying around, stuffing down chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties." He smiles, but then his face grows serious. He leans closer to Hermione, looking at her with questioning eyes. "Something's wrong. What happened?"

Crowell always had a particularly knack for seeing right through Hermione's cool exterior. He said he once had a younger sister exactly like her. Sighing, Hermione runs her fingers through her full, dark hair. "It's just these interviews. They aren't going very well."

"That's because you'll never find anyone as good as me."

"That's very true."

"But there must be a distant second out there somewhere. Who did you interview today?"

Hermione lets a moment pass before meeting Crowell's gaze. "Draco Malfoy."

Crowell and Hermione have worked with each other for almost a decade- and after long nights and tiresome trips, he knows most of the details of her past. The name Draco makes him cringe with sympathy. "Really? Didn't he know you were conducting the interviews?"

"Yes. That didn't seem to deter him."

"Little bugger. What happened? Did you throw him out?"

"Not exactly. Not at first." Hermione quickly relates the story to Crowell, and by the time she's finished, there's a curious expression on his face.

"Hmph," he says.

"What?"

"Perhaps," Crowell raises a hand to stoke the fine, silver hairs of his beard. "Perhaps he _has _changed. And you said he is overly qualified. Maybe you should-"

"You're not suggesting that I actually hire _Draco Malfoy_? I thought you were on my side."

"Darling, but of course I'm on your side. The thing is you need someone with experience for the department, and I think - now don't give me that look - I think in the end, you'll be glad you've given him a chance. Be the better witch. Stand on the high ground, give him the job, and see what happens. Worse comes to worse, he disappoints you, and you fire the bugger."

Hermione shakes her head. She came to Crowell thinking that he would pat her on the shoulder and tell her she made the right decision. She didn't imagine this would be the outcome. "I don't know. Maybe I should go through the applicants one more time..." she trails off. Crowell is right in at least one way. Draco is qualified for the position, and if for nothing else, she should hire him for that one simple reason. It's the logical decision, and Hermione has always put her trust in logic.

Crowell's eyes shine as he sees Hermione slowly relent. "That's a good girl. I knew I did that right thing when I handed the keys over to you. Come here." Hermione leans forward so that Crowell can brush his lips against the top of her head. "You're a good witch, Hermione. Don't let this Draco get under your skin. And remember, if you ever need anything, I'll be right here, bedsores and all."

* * *

><p>Hermione gets to work early the next day. Last night, after hours of deliberation, she sent Draco an owl informing him he'd been accepted for the position on a temporary basis and that he was due for work the next morning. A large part of Hermione hopes the owl gets lost and drops the letter in a giant puddle of mud. An even larger part of Hermione hopes Draco gets lost on the way to work and falls in a giant puddle of mud.<p>

She gnaws on the edge of her quill as the minutes slowly pass by. Draco should be arriving at any moment. She'll have to debrief him on the Taipei dragon fiasco (how a family of dragons got loose in a major Chinese city- don't ask her), and of course inform him about the Irish weather incident (just because they had one potato famine decades ago- it doesn't mean they have to magic forty days and nights of rain during crop season). But she doesn't know how she'll be able to do any of this when every time she thinks of Draco's face, her stomach curls with anger and distaste.

There's a knock on the door. Hermione takes a deep, solid breath before calling out, "Come in!"

Draco tentatively enters the room, lingering in the doorway. Hermione narrows her eyes. Yesterday he was screaming at her, and today he looks like a child asking for a toy. She narrows her eyes and says, "I'm not going to bite."

And then he smiles. Slowly. The ends of his lips barely curling up in distant amusement. "Funny," he says. "I was surprised to get your owl."

"You should have been surprised. After what you said to me - you left me with no reason to hire you."

"After what _I _said to _you? _What about -"

"And yet, I had a talk with Cromwell, our regular vice president, and he insisted that I give you a shot at the job."

"Well, look at that. The man doesn't even know me, and he likes me more than you do."

"He likes you _because_ he doesn'_t _know you." Again, Draco smirks. "Come. Sit down. You'll need to sign some contracts." Hermione spreads a few sheets of parchment across the desk, filled with scrawled rules and regulations. "You're signing on as solely an interim employee. As soon as Cromwell is healthy, you're out of here. Understand?"

Draco's cool grey eyes rise to meet Hermione's gaze. "Perfectly." He takes out a silver-tipped quill from the pockets of his robes and quickly signs the documents with tight, neat handwriting.

Hermione appraises the expensive looking quill. "I see you didn't lose all your family fortune."

"Pretty things and money in the bank aren't one in the same. I've kept a few things, but I had to sell almost everything to keep afloat until I started working. When my parents went to trial - well, let's just say the ministry charged a hefty fine for their crimes." That explains why the Malfoys never went to jail. They must have paid off the courts with every last sickle and knut. It's strange to think of Draco as just another wizard, thrown into the world without a galleon in his pocket.

Hermione scans over the parchments before stacking them together and sliding them into a drawer. When she looks up, Draco is staring at her. Always staring at her. She hopes that will stop, wondering if she can fire him on the grounds that he's simply off-putting. She self-consciously raises a hand, tucking her hair behind her ears. Years ago, she learned a simple spell to keep it smooth and untangled, but sometimes she thinks her hair is too persistent, even for magic. Clearing her throat, she says, "I guess we should get you settled. The in-house department is pretty small. About eighty percent of our employees spend most of their time travelling, so it's usually just me and a few assistants around the office."

"Do you travel?"

"Yes. Just not as often anymore." When Hermione first applied for the job, she was fresh out of Hogwarts and excited to explore the entire wizarding world. The ministry sent her everywhere- from the States to Chile to Kenya. It was exhilarating to meet witches and wizards from some many different places. But ever since Cromwell promoted her to head of the department, she's spent more time organizing other people's travels than travelling herself. "I send myself on the important cases, ones that take a practiced hand."

Draco smirks, and the smile reaches his eyes. "Hermione Granger. Forever at the top of the class. You're pretty young to be running an entire department."

Despite herself, Hermione blushes. She's proud of her accomplishments, knowing they stem from hard work. "I don't run the _entire _department. I may have the title, but usually Cromwell is just as busy as I am."

"When do you think he'll be back to work?"

Hermione bites her lip, and she's flustered when Draco's eyes graze over the sensitive skin. She tries to maintain her composure, wondering why Draco always seems to have this disquieting effect on her. "I'm not sure. A couple of months, I think."

"Hmm," Draco says, and nothing more.

They sit in silence for a moment before Hermione finally stands up. "Come on then. I'll show you around."

Instinctively, Hermione waits for Draco to reject her, insult her, but then she remembers that _she's _in charge, and that brings a whisper of a smile to her face. And when Draco says, "Okay, boss," and follows her out of the office, the smile grows wider.

**A/N ****– Here's the next chapter. Please review if you like it so far!**


	3. Viktor

There's a letter on her desk when Hermione gets back to her office. It took her an hour to show Draco around, introducing him a few other employees, explaining the work he'd be doing, and setting him up at his desk. He was painfully polite the entire time, smiling with bright white teeth and charming his co-workers with a few lightly spoken compliments. It was infuriating.

Hermione picks up the letter, slicing open the red seal with her fingernail. She spreads out the folded parchment and quickly reads the message:

_There's been an incident involving a mutated batch of Cornish pixies. We're investigating suspects while trying to capture over two thousand escaped mutants, twice the size of the average pixie and three times as vicious. Please send Cromwell and yourself immediately. Our department is underhanded, and the public is getting anxious._

_ Thanks, Viktor Krum, Bulgarian International Magical Department_

_ P.S. I hope all is well Hermione. I'm looking forward to seeing you._

Hermione folds the note, tucking it into the pockets of her robe. Usually she would send Cromwell on this sort of case. He works well in stressful situations. Hermione prefers the cases that involve logistics and planning- she doesn't like walking straight into a hornet's nest- into a mess of already panicked people. There'll be a horde of wizards screaming at her and a stack of things to do as so as she sets foot in the Bulgarian ministry. But Viktor Krum requested her personally, and she _is_ looking forward to seeing him.

After the triwizard tournament, Hermione and Viktor continued to stay in touch, sending each other letters a few times every month. But they've lost contact over the past few years, mostly because they both have very demanding jobs. Viktor is high in the ranks at the Bulgarian ministry. He moved up quickly once he decided to forgo his quidditch career. From time to time, they get to see each other at international summits, but there's not much time for catching up when there are a hundred foreign delegates breathing down your neck.

Part of Hermione is excited to finally travel after spending weeks in the office, but another part of her is dreading the big job looming in the distance. _Two thousand mutated pixies? Good god. _Hermione remembers dealing with just a couple dozen pixies while she was at Hogwarts- and that was nightmare itself. Sighing, she grabs a piece of parchment and quickly scrawls out a response to Viktor:

_Good to hear from you Viktor, despite the circumstances. I'll be on my way soon._

She bites the tip of her quill before adding:

_I'm bringing the interim vice president with me. Cromwell is in the hospital until further notice. We'll leave within the hour._

Hermione rolls up the parchment and walks over to the open window. She whistles once, and an owl swoops down, landing on the sill. It sits patiently as Hermione ties the note around its leg. "Fly safely," Hermione says as the owl bursts back into the air.

Draco isn't at his desk when she walks outside. Instead, he's bent over Sybil Wright's desk, smiling and laughing at something. Hermione narrows her eyes. Sybil is a smart girl. But she's also a beautiful, flirtatious girl. Hermione keeps her in the office instead of sending her on cases, because the last time she was in Beijing, she ended up with an engagement ring from the Chinese wizarding president. The president was heartbroken when Hermione explained that Sybil didn't know the Chinese word for "engagement," and had thought she was simply receiving a nice gift.

"What are you two doing?" She asks, trying to keep her tone light.

"Oh, sorry, Hermione," Sybil says, blushing prettily. "I was just showing Draco this new cartoon strip. Here, have a look."

Draco steps back, making room for Hermione in front of the desk. His gray eyes flicker to hers for just a moment, and she can feel him close behind her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck, as she leans over the desk. "Look," Sybil says again, and Hermione turns her distracted gaze towards the cartoon.

It's a silly little thing, of a tiny child witch defeating a large dragon with a broken wand and broomstick. Hermione smirks slightly. "Cute," she says.

"Yes, I thought so."

"But perhaps you should spend working hours working instead of distracting our new employee."

Sybil's smile falters from just a moment before she says, "Yes, of course. Sorry."

"That's all right."

Hermione turns around, and almost jumps, realizing how close Draco is standing to her. He smirks, seeing he's startled her, but before he can open his mouth, she says, "Come, Draco. There's a crisis in Bulgaria. Let's see how you handle yourself on the job."

She starts striding back towards her office, Draco following closely behind. His eyes are wide, animate. "You mean I get to go to Bulgaria?"

"_We _get to go to Bulgaria. But don't sound too excited. The case isn't a pretty one."

"Why? What's happened?"

Hermione must admit that his enthusiasm for the job is promising. He might be buggering around the office, flirting and distracting her employees, but at least he's interested in the job. It's always good to change up the department with some fresh, excited faces. "Some mutated pixies escaped. We have to contain all the pixies and find the bloody idiot who created them."

"_Bloody idiot_," Draco says, smiling widely. "I can't believe Hermione Granger curses. It's a revelation. Didn't anyone teach you some decorum?"

"I'm almost thirty, Malfoy. I can say bloody if I bloody well like."

"I guess it's just hard for me to separate the old Hermione from the new one."

Hermione eyes Draco suspiciously, thinking she's having exactly the same problem with him. What happened to the young, taunting, cruel boy she knew at Hogwarts? Is he still there buried beneath a charming smile? "I'm not so different now," Hermione responds. But she starts to wonder how much she's changed. Surely she's not the same little girl who first stepped foot in Hogwarts with an open mouth and wide eyes. Of course, she's changed. But how? What does Draco see when he looks at her now?

And why does she care?

"Anyways, you need to get going. Here's the address for the Bulgarian ministry. Go home, pack enough clothing for a couple of days, and use the floo network. Keep an eye on the time. They close the fire grates at the end of the workday."

"Will you meet me there?" Draco asks.

"Of course I'm meeting you there. What? Did you think I'd let you go on your first trip alone? I can't have you messing everything up."

"Silly of me to ask. I'll see you soon, boss." Hermione wishes she could slap the sly grin right off his face.

* * *

><p>"Hermione. I'm glad you're here," Viktor says as Hermione tries to gracefully sweep the floo powder from her robes. He looks as tall and broad as ever, with dark hair pushed off his strong-featured face. "I'm working with a bunch of tiresome fools over here. It's good to see a competent person walking out of that fire place."<p>

Hermione smiles softly, pleased by the compliment. "Thank you, Viktor. I'm happy to be here." To most people, Viktor Krum was always an unreachable idol, silent and brooding. She's not sure how it happened, but during his time at Hogwarts, he took a liking to Hermione. Sometimes she thinks he's spoken more words to her than anyone else in the world combined. There was a time when they thought of turning their friendship into something romantic. It was right after she broke up with Ron, but Hermione decided she'd rather keep Viktor as a friend than chance losing him after a few dates.

The Bulgarian ministry is a lot smaller than England's, but the halls are huge and drafty, stone arches raised fifty feet high. The walls are decorated thickly with richly painted tapestries, depicting Bulgaria's wizarding history. Hermione wonders whether this pixie incident will make it into a mural.

"So when was D-Day?" She asks, deciding to gather information on the case before Viktor and her start reminiscing about the glory days.

"D-Day?" He asks, confused.

Sometimes, Hermione forgets that most witches and wizards weren't brought up in the muggle world. They don't always pay attention to what they consider "trivial wars fought with idiots holding metal."

"Never mind," Hermione continues. "When did the pixies first get loose?"

"Oh, well we got the first owl two days ago. Someone said they saw pixies loose in Brier Park. The next day, there were five people in the hospital with some pretty violent bites and cuts."

"And have you managed to catch any of the pixies yet?"

"Only a few. They're in testing now. I have Snarpus in the lab trying to figure out what they are exactly, and if there's any easy way to catch them. But he says the work is going slowly. He can't get a live sample without one of the Pixies trying to bites his eye out."

Hermione grimaces. "This does sound fun."

"It's a nightmare." Viktor's dark eyes meet Hermione's, and he smiles lightly. "But like I said, I'm glad you're here. Knowing you, everything will be fixed and wrapped up in twenty-four hours."

"Two thousand pixies and the experimenter missing? Let's not get ahead of ourselves." But Hermione is hoping to be back in England quickly. She doesn't like leaving Cromwell alone in the hospital for long.

"Where's old Cromwell, by the way?" Viktor asks, as if reading her mind.

"Oh, he got himself into a right mess in Tanzania. It's a long story. He'll be at St. Mungo's for awhile."

"Pity. I liked him. He always gave it to me straight. Most people in government are very good at making the truth into a lie. Well, who did you get to replace him?"

Just as Viktor asks this, the fireplace shoots into green flames, and a blonde figure walks out, grimacing a bit as he holds his head. "I'll never get used to travelling by floo," Draco says.

"Viktor," Hermione says. "I'd like you to meet Draco Malfoy, our new employee. He'll be working with..." Hermione trails off as she notices that Draco and Viktor are staring each other down, bitter resentment in their eyes. She clears her throat. "I take it you two already know each other."

"Know each other?" Viktor gives out one, short laugh before launching himself right at Draco, open hands aimed for his pale throat.

**A/N ****– Thought I'd leave a little cliffhanger. I've changed Viktor a little bit for the role- I need him a bit more talkative, but I hope you guys don't mind.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	4. Personal

"Stop it, Viktor!" Hermione screams as Krum attempts to strangle Draco's pale neck. Draco's gray eyes are wide with shock as he tries to unhinge Krum's fingers. "Stop this. Right now!" She screams again, but her words don't seem to penetrate Viktor's rather thick skull.

She draws her wand from the depths of her robe and barks out, "_Flipendo. Immobulus._" Viktor is sent flying backwards, landing hard on the stone floor. He's immobile, sprawled on the ground, but his cold eyes are still locked onto Draco.

Hermione turns to Draco, watching as he massages his red throat. "What on earth did you do to Viktor to cause a reaction like that?" She asks.

Draco scoffs. "_I _didn't do anything."

"If you don't tell me, I'll lift the _Immobulus _spell and let Viktor attack you all over again."

"I don't need your protection, Granger. I can defend myself."

"Yes. You seemed to be doing quite an excellent job of it before I stepped in. You're a wizard, Draco. Maybe next time you should try using magic instead of attempting to beat a champion quidditch player in a bloody wrestling match." Draco isn't small by any standard, but his lean muscle has nothing against the bulk of Viktor.

"I was just waiting for the right opportunity," Draco mutters.

Hermione inhales sharply. It's day one, and she's already regretting hiring Draco. He's the same stubborn brat he was so many years ago. She steps forward, forcing Draco to meet her hard stare. She's the boss, and either he can do what she says, or he can get fired. "Of course you were. Now do you want to tell me what the hell is going on between you and Viktor or do you want me to unfreeze him? He's a good friend of mine. I don't plan on leaving him a statue for the rest of the day, so let's get this matter settled now. We're all supposed to be working together."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"And why not?"

"Because it's none of your bloody business!" There's something flickering beneath Draco's harsh, angry eyes. Remorse? Guilt? Hermione can't place it, but she suddenly feels unsteady. Whatever happened between Draco and Viktor is obviously a lot more important than she imagined.

"Draco," she says, trying to gather her words. She doesn't want this situation to get out of hand, but if Draco continues to fly off the handle, she'll be tempted to spell him into submission. Let Viktor and Draco sit like stone statues while she fixes the pixies in Bulgaria. It seems like the easiest option. "You have a few options. One: you can tell me what happened, and I'll try to help. Two: I'll unfreeze Viktor and pray that you two manage to talk things out yourself. Three: You can step right back into that fireplace and never set foot in my office again."

Draco's eyes are blazing with subdued fury. His mouth is set in a tight, bitter line, and his hand is tightly clutching his wand. "This isn't _my _fault," he says.

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

Draco glances towards Viktor. "If you want the story, ask him. I'm not here to fight. I'm here to work on the case." His voice lowers, and Draco leans over to stare Hermione straight in the eye. "But I swear, if he so much as lays a hand on me again, I'll jinx the bloody bugger with a lot more than an _Immobulus _spell."

Hermione carefully considers his words. Viktor did start the fight after all; he was the one who launched himself at Draco as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace. But if Viktor hates Draco, than Hermione trusts that he has a good reason for it. It's a gamble, and Hermione hopes luck is in her favor. "Fine," she says before flicking her wand in Krum's direction.

Viktor jumps to his feet as soon as he's unfrozen, large hands clenched into tight fists. He's staring at Draco like he's Lord Voldermort himself. But he doesn't move. Instead, after a final glare, he turns his gaze to Hermione. "What about you, Viktor? Do you have an explanation for this ridiculousness?"

"I'm afraid that's a private matter between Draco and I."

Hermione stands there, stunned. What's so bloody important that they're both keeping her in the dark? "Really?" She asks, exasperated. "You really can't tell me what's going on?"

"No," Viktor responds.

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"Accept it and shut up," Draco says.

It's the last straw. Hermione spins back around to face Draco, stalking towards him. "I am your boss Draco. You don't tell me to shut up. You don't tell me to do _anything_." They're standing so closely together that Hermione can see Draco's chest rising and falling, can feel the heat coming from his body. "Viktor might not be under my jurisdiction, but you sure as hell are, so either you tell me what's going on or you can get fired."

Draco opens his mouth, but then closes it. His neck is flushed, and Hermione can see the anger flowing out of him. _Good_, she thinks_, let him say something stupid, and then I'll have a reason to fire him. _

But it's Viktor that speaks, not Draco. "Don't fire him."

"And why not?" Hermione asks, finally pulling her gaze from Draco, turning around to face Viktor.

"Because," Viktor says, the words out coming slowly. "The matter between Draco and I is personal. Don't fire him over it. I'm sure we'll manage to work together, putting personal matters aside for now. You don't need to involve yourself in it." His eyes darken. "One day, he and his family will pay for what they've done."

* * *

><p>"All right. I'll look over these reports and see you in the morning," Hermione says, shoving an enormous amount of parchment into her bag.<p>

"There's a muggle hotel just down the block," Viktor responds. "You and Draco should be more than comfortable there, but if you prefer, there's a little wizarding inn about twenty miles out."

"I'm sure the hotel will be fine. Thank you." There's a thick tension hanging in the air. "Draco," Hermione says. "Wait for me outside. I'd like a private word with Viktor."

Something flickers in Draco's gray eyes, but he says, "Okay," and leaves the room.

The day went by surprisingly smoothly after Draco and Viktor tucked their wands away. It was obvious that they were uncomfortable around each other, but they put their feud aside and were coolly civil towards each other while working on the case. It quickly became apparent that finding a way to confine the pixies was more than enough stress for one day, and Hermione was almost grateful for that. But still, she was hoping to reconnect with Viktor on this business trip, and somehow Draco has managed to burn that plan to the ground without even trying.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Viktor says, speaking first. "About earlier."

"It's all right. I just...won't you tell me what happened between you two?"

Viktor sighs. He looks at Hermione with bare, honest eyes. "I can't. It's complicated, and to be honest, I'd rather not dig up old ghosts."

"You said it involved your families. Is-"

"Hermione. I don't want to talk about it. Please accept that."

Sometimes Hermione has trouble knowing when to keep her mouth shut, and more often than not, it's because her curiosity overpowers her good sense. Whatever happened with Viktor and Draco was obviously serious, and if it involved their families- well, knowing how sweet and loving Draco's family is, it must have been something awful. "Okay. I'll stop pushing. I was just hoping we'd be able to relax and have some fun while I'm over here. But everything just feels so tense now."

And then, Viktor smiles, warmth flooding into those dark eyes. "You thought we'd relax and have fun with two thousand mutated pixies?"

Hermione blushes. "I meant spending time together after work. Catching up. Maybe grabbing some food."

"And I would love to do that, Hermione," Viktor says. "What about now? Are you hungry?"

"I shouldn't. To be honest, I'm completely knackered. I just want to get to the hotel and go to sleep. But maybe tomorrow. Hopefully we'll have something to celebrate. I'm planning on getting those pixies, one way or the other."

Viktor looks slightly disappointed, but he smiles anyways. "Okay. Tomorrow then."

* * *

><p>The hotel is over twenty stories tall, huge by wizarding standards. There aren't many magical inns or hotels because most witches and wizards can just apparate home or bring along a magical, pocket-sized cabin that inflates with the flick of a wand. But Hermione finds it's easiest to stay on site while working on a case. It's much easier than travelling back and forth, messing with time zones and such.<p>

"Looks expensive," Draco says as they walk inside. He looks hesitant, fingers lightly grazing his wand from within his robes. "Maybe I'll just apparate home."

_Is he worried about money_, Hermione thinks. He already mentioned that he had to sell a lot of things before he could get back on his feet, but she didn't realize money was such a concern for him. Perhaps after living his young life of luxury, he still hasn't adjusted to just scraping by. She almost feels bad for him. After all, it's not his fault that his parents spoiled him as a child.

She speaks without thinking. "Oh, don't worry about the expense. The ministry pays for it."

"Really?" Draco looks skeptical. "When I was working for Magical Games and Sports, they said we could either apparate home at the end of the day or pay for a hotel ourselves."

The ministry was always rather stingy. "Yes, well in _our _department, they pay for our accommodations. I'll just send them the bill when we get back, and they'll give me a full refund. I guess it's just different for our deparment. You need to be well rested when handling important matters."

"Quidditch isn't important?"

_"Grindylow speed fishing_ isn't important."

"That is a bit of a silly sport, isn't it?"

"Utterly pointless."

And then- Draco smiles. And Hermione smiles back, for some reason pleased that she's made Draco feel better. "So it's settled then. I'll just go get us some rooms, and I'll get a refund from the ministry later on."

As Hermione walks towards the reception desk, a knot tightens in her stomach, because the truth is, the ministry _doesn't _pay for hotels. They consider accommodations an unnecessary expense and expect their employees to apparate home after a day of work. So as Hermione takes out her one, muggle credit card, she wonders why on earth she just lied to Draco. And why on earth she's about to pay for his hotel room.

Because both of those decisions were _extremely _illogical.

**A/N ****– Thanks for reading! Please review- it makes me write faster : ) **


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